Dear journal,
I found something interesting today. A met a wonderful, beautiful, talented little thing named May. She's as short and sweet as the month she's named after. She's everything the Haus of Lyon needs but I don't know how to get her on my...
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Dear Journal,
I'm lying in bed.
I'm on cloud fucking nine.
We made love after coming back from the gala, and I can't stop thinking about how stunning May looked in custom Dior blue dress, the one that was backless and hugged her soft curves.
The entire night, I was gripped by jealousy as it seemed every man in the room wanted to take her away from me.
James was there. He looked miserable as he clung to a corner, nursing something strong.
For some stupid reason, he decided to come over. I don't know why he hasn't learned his lesson yet. The way he looked at her made my blood boil. But May, ever the clever one, "accidentally" spilled wine over his expensive Armani shirt. I couldn't help but love her more for that.
(James can go fuck himself for all I care. He couldn't even touch us if he tried.)
We left the gala, barely making it to our hotel room as we couldn't keep our hands off each other. May took the lead and asked if I was okay with it. I was perfectly content to let her take me apart and put me back together again. I like it when decides to take control. Her dominance was intoxicating, and I savored every moment of it.
Now, as I write this, I'm thinking we should extend our stay for one more day. Work is starting to pick up again, and I want to savor the time we have together. I plan to take her shopping tomorrow and pamper her as she deserves.
This time with May is precious, and I want to hold onto it as long as I can.
